A Perfect Hero (19 page)
“Hmmmph!” said the first. “If his neck isn’t stretched on the gibbet first!”
Julianna went dry with fear. She was still reel
ing when she felt a touch on her arm.
It was the Dowager Duchess of Carrington, a peremptory figure in red. With the tip of her infa
mous cane, the tiny duchess just barely lifted the
hem of Julianna’s gown. Fashioned of shimmer
ing amber silk, it fell in soft pleats from beneath her breasts to swirl around her feet, emphasizing her slender form. Her maid had woven a shim
mering strand of pearls through the curls on her crown. Snowy white gloves extended past her el
bows, halfway to the dainty cap sleeves.
“That is a most becoming color on you, dear. It brings out the chestnut in your hair. And the pearls woven throughout—most charming.”
Julianna barely heard. “Oh, good evening, Your Grace. And thank you.” She would never have dreamed of being rude. One did not shun the dowager duchess. Besides, the duchess was practically family. “Ah, Your Grace, might I ask that—”
“I saw you watching your brothers earlier, my dear. You concealed it well, but I sensed your loneliness.”
Julianna nearly gasped. “Your Grace, I am not lonely!”
The duchess nodded sagely. “Child, when one is my age, one sees many things.” She paused. “You know, I consider myself responsible for bringing many a couple together—indeed, many a successful marriage. Why, it was I who foresaw that Justin would be the perfect man for Arabella—and in this very ballroom! And of course, there is Sebastian and Devon.” Her mouth pursed. “My dear, I have restrained my
self for some time now. But I would count it a pleasure were you to allow me to suggest a fitting gentleman.” She laughed softly. “Perhaps the outcome will be the same.”
Julianna nearly groaned. The duchess loved nothing more than to play matchmaker. She had always managed gently to dissuade the old woman.
“Your Grace,” she began.
The duchess curled her gnarled fingers into Ju-lianna’s elbow. “Trust me, dear Julianna. I have much experience in these things, I assure you. Now then,” she stated crisply, “the only question is who. I am exceedingly fond of you, you know. So the man in question cannot simply be eligible. He must be a man who is eminently suited to you. He must be a man of staunch reputation, of ir
refutable character. I will countenance no less.” Her eyes twinkled. “And handsome. Ah, yes, he must be handsome. Oh, but I know just the one for you!”
“Your Grace,” Julianna said firmly.
“Now then, where the devil is he? I saw him just moments ago. There he is!” The duchess’s cane came up and slashed in a vigorous circle. Julianna nearly shrieked, for it narrowly missed the arm of an earl striding by. The old lady paid no heed.
“Granville,” she hailed. “Come here, I say!”
Drat! It was too late to retract gracefully. From the corner of her eye Julianna saw that a gentle
man had halted. Perhaps she could just laugh it off...
Her eyes drifted away, then jerked back. The man was turning . . . turning.
Her heart lurched. There was something famil
iar about the angle of his shoulder, the way he carried himself.
What madness was this? Oh, God, now she was seeing him. Not just in her dreams. But in the flesh.
Beside her, the duchess stretched out a hand. He was bowing low over it. Straightening . . .
The dowager duchess was almost cooing. “It is my very great pleasure to present Lady Julianna Sterling. Julianna, allow me to introduce Vis
count Granville.”
Slowly Julianna raised her head. She con
fronted an impossibly broad chest. Her gaze trekked relentlessly upward, taking in a squarely chiseled jaw. Almost desperately she looked up into his face.
Heaven help her, he was real. He was
here
.
It was Dane.
t would have been impossible to say who
was the more startled. Dane...or Julianna.
Viscount . . .
viscount
.
The words seemed to pulse visibly in the air. Her tongue was all twisted in her mouth, and speech was quite literally beyond her capacity.
He was faultlessly—formally—dressed in eve
ning clothes. Black coat, charcoal silk-embroidered waistcoat and impeccably creased trousers, shining, tasseled Hessians, his air no less than commanding, his cravat snowy white against his chin. His longish waves had been trimmed, yet despite his formal dress, he main
tained a dark, rugged vitality that made it seem as if there were not enough air in her lungs to breathe.
Nonetheless, she took an almost perverse satis
faction in the shock reflected on his features. It was Julianna who recovered first, offering white-gloved fingertips.
“My lord. Your name again. It is Viscount”— an infinitesimal pause—“Granville?”
“Indeed, my lady. I vow, I am enchanted.”
Julianna gritted her teeth. She could think of many names to call him—none of which she’d heard here. “And I, my lord.”
Strong fingers had curled around hers. He bowed low over her hand. When he straightened, his eyes caught hers. “I fear you must forgive me—with this crush, I failed to catch your name as well.”
Forgive him? Nay. Never. Why, the rake, the rogue, she could almost believe he was taunting her!
She matched that maddening smile. “Sterling, my lord. Julianna
Clare
Sterling.”
The pressure on her hand increased ever so subtly. She tried to tug it back, but he retained possession.
And now it was his turn for triumph.
“Tell me—” an easy smile creased his lips “—are you by chance related to Sebastian Ster
ling, Marquess of Thurston?”
“Intimately so, sir, for he is my brother.”
“Splendid!”
His eyes proclaimed otherwise, however. The
musicians had resumed their places. “Will you grant me a dance, dear lady?” He afforded no op
portunity for refusal, for already he had handily tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow and covered it with his own. He gave a little bow to the dowager duchess. “Your Grace, will you ex
cuse us?”
“Of a certainty, my dears! Of a certainty!”
The duchess was beaming as he swept her onto the polished ballroom floor.
Shock was all that held Julianna upright. All that kept her on her feet. Only pride kept her from crying. Only his arm kept her from falling, or tearing herself away.
She had known something was amiss. She’d known something was off. His manners, his speech, his air of breeding. A part of her was overjoyed.
A part of her was devastated.
Why was he here? How dare he risk being dis
covered! If anyone should guess that he was the Magpie—
Something inside her wrenched. Who was he? Who was he really? Who was the real Dane? The daring highwayman? The elegant nobleman?
His head turned ever so slightly. The bristly hardness of his jaw brushed her temple. Her en
tire body was taut.
His arm tightened. “Relax,” he murmured. “Relax.”
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to! The scent of him was dizzying. She was as familiar with his smell as her own. And he felt so good. The warmth of his body next to hers in the dead of night, the powerful length of his body shel
tering hers, the way his back shaped her spine and bottom. All this she remembered ...and more.
But in truth, he was a stranger...or was he?
She didn’t know. God above, she didn’t know!
She tilted her head back to find him watching her, his mouth curled in a crooked half smile. “Why do you smile like that? Why do you look like that?”
“I believe you know, sweet.”
Julianna stiffened. “Who are you?
Who are you?
”
He gave a shake of his head. “Don’t do this,” came his murmur. “Not here.” For all his quiet, there was a note of steel in his tone.
“Tell me. Tell me now.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Julianna—”
“I’ll make a scene.”
His jaw tightened. His eyes seared her, but she would not back down. His lips tightening, he whirled her off the floor, onto the terrace, steer
ing her down a winding pathway deep into the gardens.
He finally halted between two stone statues. The fragrant scent of lilacs wafted all around
them. Julianna paid no heed. In the moonlight,
his expression revealed nothing—nor did he. “You bastard,” she said feelingly. His eyes flickered. “Hardly,” he said coolly. Her heart was near to breaking.
She
was near
to breaking. “Do not mock me. Do not
play
with me.” His smile vanished. “Dane.
Dane
. Why, is that even your name—” “It is.” “And you are Viscount Granville? You must
be, for the duchess appears to know you well.” “I am.” “That is all you have to say?” He simply looked at her. “Tell me, Dane, or I swear I will—” “Lower your voice! Dammit, Julianna, you’re
distraught.” “I am not distraught. I’m angry. You deceived me,” she accused.
Still that brutal silence. Julianna lost her tem
per. Her hand shot out and delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.
He just stood there. Something sparked inside her; she would have done it again, but this time strong fingers encircled the fragile span of her wrist.
Dane was prickling as well. “Must I remind you that you deceived me as well, Miss Julianna
Clare
? I thought I’d seen you before ...My God,
the sister of a marquess. Why, if I’d known, I’d have delivered you straightaway back to London. Believe me, I’d never have laid a hand on you.”
“I was afraid, Dane! I didn’t know what you would do if you knew who I was. And then later, it didn’t seem to matter. I didn’t think we would ever see each other again. Besides, it wasn’t as if you...as if we—”
She halted at his quelling glance. “Believe me, love, if your brothers knew what we’d done, they would gladly see me rotting in a cell in Newgate.”
“Oh!” she cried bitterly. “Would it truly have mattered who my brother is? You’re determined to land yourself in Newgate quite on your own.”
He gave her a slow, deliberate smile. “Not if I can help it.”
Of all the arrogance! “Unhand me, Dane.”
“Not until I’m assured of your silence.”
“Well, there’s only one sure way of that, isn’t there?”
He scowled. “I should have followed my in
stincts. I knew I shouldn’t have come here to
night!”
Julianna caught her breath. Her eyes were flush with his chest. Flush with his heart. God, she thought wildly, did he even possess a heart, that he could fling hers to the depths of hell so easily?
He released her. “Christ,” he muttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He seemed to
hesitate. “Julianna, please. I’m asking you to trust me.”
Trust him. Trust him! Her mind was scream
ing. Was this nothing but a game? He played at niceties. He played at being a gentleman. He played at being a highwayman. Her heart wrenched. Had he played at the tender lover as well?
Whatever the truth, she would know it. She would not tolerate a blind acceptance.
She raised her head. “Perhaps it’s you who should trust me,” she said levelly.
“What do you mean?”
“Only this. We must talk, my lord.”
His mouth tightened. She did not mistake the guarded tension in his stance. “Must we?”
“You are a master at fading into the night, Dane. But not tonight. Not now, for I will scream. I will scream this minute. And then I will tell everyone—everyone!—who the Magpie re
ally is.”
His eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I won’t call your bluff?”
Julianna straightened her spine. “Will you?” was all she said. “I think not.”
Dane was incredulous. He gazed down into snapping blue eyes, admiring her control, though he’d never been more furious in his life.
“Did you come alone?”
“I did.”
His mouth twisted. “Then permit me to take you home.”
Sitting on the rich burgundy velvet seat in his car
riage, Julianna tucked her feet beneath her. Her head bowed low, she closed her eyes for a mo
ment. Lodged fast within her chest was a world of turmoil. So much had happened, she was still reeling. It was almost too much to absorb. To be
lieve. Perhaps she’d imagined it. Perhaps she’d conjured him out of her own wayward longing. Was it all a dream then?
No. He was still here. To her frustration, he appeared utterly calm.
Folding his arms across the broad expanse of his chest, he regarded her. “Are you quite recov
ered?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were going to swoon. Then I thought you were going to succumb to hysterics.”
“You were just as startled as I,” she charged, her tone very low. “And I do believe you’re trying to goad me.”
His smile was almost lazy. “Perhaps I am.”
The carriage bumped around a corner. All of a sudden everything changed. The carriage lamp swayed, throwing his profile into stark illumina
tion.
His eyes were riveted on her mouth.
“Julianna.” He spoke her name in a way that suddenly made her tremble. “Come here.”
Julianna sucked in a breath. “No.
No!
” Nei
ther the denial nor her tone was as determined as it should have been. She clasped her fingers tautly in her lap. It was the only way she could stop her
self from reaching for him.
“Then I will come to you.” In one spare move
ment, he transferred his long body beside hers on the seat.
He made no move to touch her, but she was aware of his gaze poring over her features. Unable to stop herself, her regard lifted. His lips were curved in a smile that was half-sad, half-tender.
“Don’t.” Her throat constricted. She had no hope of disguising the raw swell of her emotions. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Kitten,” he said. “
Kitten
.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry...I shouldn’t call you that, I know. But I can’t help it.”
Suddenly her hands were imprisoned within his. Impatiently he stripped away her gloves. He weaved his fingers with hers. His were twice as large, nearly twice as long, twice as dark as her fair skin.
“Your hands are like ice,” he chided. He turned his mouth into her palm. “It will be all right,” he whispered. “It will.”
A low, strangled sound snagged in her throat. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never see you!”
All at once she was sobbing, jagged sobs she couldn’t withhold.
